Vulnerable
by stephanieebrown
Summary: "The pain, the hurt, the anger. I don't want it. I don't want to feel any of it." A tear slips down her cheek. She wipes it away and hopes he doesn't notice. She knows he saw it. "That's not how it works, Buddy,"


**I've been having awful writers block lately so I wrote this to help loosen up a little. It's inspired heavily by Marina and Diamonds' song 'I am not a Robot' which I think suits perfectly.**

**I do not own zip.**

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><p><span>Robot:<span>

The steady _clacking_ of her heels echo and bounce off of the narrow, white walls. Condensation steams up the windows and blurts out to the inside dwellers that a harsh winter is on its way. Barbara wouldn't have minded the cold so much if she hadn't recently ripped her favourite coat on her apartment door.

She sighs. It has been six months. Almost. She's had enough of tip-toeing around the subject for so long and has decided to face the object of her irritation and concern. It doesn't help that he has been ignoring her calls. She'd call it a sixth sense but she knows when he is out and when he is cooped up in his 'pity-pad'. More often than not it's the latter.

She see's him on missions of course. He still hasn't rejoined the Team - something she is certain he will get around to eventually - but never fails to miss a situation in Gotham when his help is needed. However, there is a difference between Batgirl and Nightwing, constantly talking in code and avoiding topics of their personal lives, and Barbara Gordon and Dick Grayson who up until six months ago were the best of friends. Barbara doesn't want their friendship to fade because of lack of communication. That's why she's here at his apartment complex; facing the impossible.

The _clacking_ of her boots come to a halt outside the door. She stares at the faded and chipping paint for a second before taking a deep breath. _Brace yourself, Gordon._ She brings a fist up - clenched and clammy - and knocks smartly on the wooden frame four times. Ten seconds go by. Then twenty. She tries again, this time more violently.

"I know you're in there Grayson!" she calls.

A pause.

"And don't think I'm going to give up!"

She thinks she hears movement on the other side of the door but she isn't sure over the sound of her own voice so she raises her hand to knock again - and promptly punches something that is most definitely _not a door._

Her head snaps up and suddenly she's staring into blue eyes - eyes she hasn't seen without a mask for months - and can't help but note the dark circles beneath them. Covering the lower half of his pale face is the ghost of stubble that has recently started growing back.

"Richard," she breathes in hello. "Can I come in?"

He says nothing but steps back to allow access into the narrow hallway of his apartment. _Who's Mr. Talkative today then?_ She resists the urge to roll her eyes.

Barbara bumbles into the living room, finding it in a state of disarray which is really not all that different from the many other times she's visited his place. Dumping her bag, she heads straight for the small kitchen and fills the kettle with water to put on the boil. With a considerable amount of difficulty, she finds two clean mugs and, by miracle, tea bags. Fishing around in the refrigerator, she finds a carton of milk still within date and before long she's back in the lounge with two mugs of steaming tea. She hands one to Dick, who takes it automatically without a word, before sitting down on the sofa and taking a sip of her own. She purses her lips. She always adds too much sugar.

There is silence while she drinks the comforting liquid. It's awkward but she tries to ignore it and focus on what she's doing here. When she finishes, she places the cup on the coffee table. It clatters quietly for a second before the silence is resumed. Taking a deep breath, Barbara turns to face Dick who, to her mild annoyance, has not touched his tea.

"So," she begins.

"So," He echoes and because it's the first thing she's heard him say since forever other than 'good work tonight, Batgirl', she bristles slightly in irritation.

_Calm, Barbara. Be calm,_ she reminds herself resignedly.

"You can't go on like this Dick,"

As she had expected, his jaw tightens and his eyes flash. At least it's some sort of reaction.

"I'm fine," he grinds out between gritted teeth.

Her temper flares.

"No, you're not, Dick," she argues. "I haven't seen you outside of a mission for what? Six months? You look like you've never slept a day in your life and _you're fine?_"

_So much for patient and calm, Gordon._

"I am fine," he insists but his voice his hollow and his words lack any sort of argument.

Barbara can't help but notice how utterly shattered he looks. Her temper dies down like a flame as quickly as it rose and her voice softens.

"Dick, it's okay you know," she coaxes. "you can talk to me."

No reply.

"You don't need to be all 'tough-guy' around me," she reminds him. "you know that."

"'M fine, Babs."

Dismissal.

The use of his nickname for her should soften her up but it rubs her up the wrong way. She breaks eye-contact with him, standing up, and stalking over to the kitchen with her empty mug. When she returns, she refuses to look him in the face.

"I called you know," she commented. "left messages too. But you already know that because your answer machine says they've all been listened to."

He glances at the traitorous machine on the coffee table.

"Babs," he hesitates. "I was going to call but-"

"Don't be so pathetic, Grayson," she cuts him off sharply. "You knew you were never going to pick up the damn phone and call me back. You knew it and I knew it."

She glares at him. "But that never stopped me from trying."

His face falls from its previously tense expression to one of utter bereavement.

"It's just so hard, Babs," his voice breaks a little. "Wally-"

"I know, Buddy," she whispers, crossing the room and embracing him tightly. "I know."  
>He doesn't cry like she expects him to. It's not exactly a rare occurrence, she's seen him cry plenty of times. Instead, what he says next, in his broken, muffled voice, breaks her heart.<p>

"I don't want to feel anymore, Babs," he chokes.

She withdraws from the embrace, looking him dead in the eye.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I-" he halters. "the pain, the hurt, the anger. I don't want it. I don't want to feel any of it."

A tear slips down her cheek. She wipes it away before she hopes he notices. She knows he saw it.

"That's not how it works, Buddy," she soothes him.

"Why not?" he retorts, child-like.

"Because we're human-beings, not robots." She chuckles slightly at the absurdity of her own words. "Feeling is part of the package."

"Then maybe I don't want to be human anymore."

Barbara sighs and runs her hand through his hair, smoothing it down. Her fingers trail down his face as she caresses his cheek. With his tired, mal-nourished body and hollow eyes, Barbara can't help but see how exposed and defenseless he looks. How vulnerable.

"Oh, Honey," she murmurs sadly. "If we didn't have any feelings at all what would happen to love and happiness and all the good sides of life?"

He doesn't answer and so Barbara just embraces him again without another word.

They'd sat there for a good long while now. In each others arms. He had cried this time and Barbara let his tears fall and soak into her blouse. Then there was silence. It was a nice silence though. Not one of awkwardness and bereavement but one of a joined sadness mingled with a sweet friendship and a solid knowing that neither of them has to be alone ever again.

"Babs?" Dick asks tentatively after a while.

"Yes, Boy-Wonder?"

"Will you teach me how to feel?"

She smiles into his shoulder and holds on tighter.

"Of course."

"And Barbara?"

"Yes Dick?"

"You know I love you, right?"

There's a hint of teasing in his voice and Barbara grins.

"I know, Buddy," she kisses him softly on the cheek. "I know."

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><p><em>You've been acting awful tough lately<em>  
><em>Smoking a lot of cigarettes lately<em>  
><em>But inside, you're just a little baby<em>  
><em>It's okay to say you've got a weak spot<em>  
><em>You don't always have to be on top<em>  
><em>Better to be hated than loved, loved, love for what you're not<em>

_You've been hanging with the unloved kids_  
><em>Who you never really liked and you never trusted<em>  
><em>But you are so magnetic, you pick up all the pins<em>  
><em>Never committing to anything<em>  
><em>You don't pick up the phone when it ring, ring, rings<em>  
><em>Don't be so pathetic, just open up and sing<em>

_You're vulnerable, you're vulnerable_  
><em>You are not a robot<em>  
><em>You're lovable, so lovable<em>  
><em>But you're just troubled<em>

_Can you teach me how to feel real?_

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><p>AN: I hope you enjoyed it lovelies!

**Read. ****_Enjoy. _****Review**


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